


Closing Time

by the_technicolor_whiscash



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bedsharing, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Picnics, Post almost apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 07:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18310925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_technicolor_whiscash/pseuds/the_technicolor_whiscash
Summary: After the almost-apocalypse, neither Aziraphale nor Crowley want to be alone.





	Closing Time

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I did title this after the song closing time by semisonic and no the fic does not have anything to do with the song I was just listening to it when I wrote it because I have a bad taste in music

Aziraphale walked into the bookshop, Crowley close behind him. It hadn’t changed much since before the fire, though some of Adam’s book choices were a bit out of Aziraphale’s tastes. He ran his hand along the spines of a particularly fragile shelf of first editions, feeling the cracked leather under his fingertips. 

“Everything looks alright, then.” He muttered. Making his way into the back, he saw everything the way he had left it, cups neatly in the cabinet and kettle on the cold burner. “Adam fixed everything.” 

“I suppose we won’t be hearing the end of this. The apocalypse that almost wasn’t.” Crowley pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat down heavily. “I need a vacation.”

“We didn’t really do much, did we.” Aziraphale sat across from Crowley, sighing deeply. “It was Adam who did all the work, all the thwarting. Imagine that, the antichrist thwarting the apocalypse. Should’ve been my job.”

“You still did the flaming sword bit and everything. That was flashy, if nothing else.” 

“True, true.” 

“What are the chances of us getting called back to- well, our respective places of employment?”

“High, most likely. But I’d rather not go back. It’s why we wanted to stop the apocalypse in the first place. Even if we did get a bit lost because someone misplaced the antichrist.”

“Oi, it wasn’t my fault! It was that nun of the chattering order. I should’ve never trusted a human with the antichrist.”

“So it’s your fault for trusting a human.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Fine, yes, blame the whole thing on me.” Crowley tried to put his heels up on the table, but his feet were quickly swatted off by Aziraphale. “It’d be a shame, really, for them to call us back after all that.”

Aziraphale thought for a moment. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of wine and a picnic blanket. What’d you say we head to St James Park, get absolutely blasted next to the ducks?”

“Isn’t it closed after sundown?”

“My dear, you know that doesn’t apply to us.”

A mischievous glint shone in Crowley’s eyes. “I like your way of thinking. Let’s do it. 

A few minutes later, they laid on their backs in St James’ Park, the first few glimmers of stars beginning to appear in the sky. Aziraphale swirled around the wine in his glass, the aroma combining a fruity scent with something chocolatey. 

“Lovely weather, considering the fact the apocalypse nearly happened this afternoon.” He muttered. 

“Wonder if it’s up there apologizing for the mess.” 

“It’s a nice thought, but I doubt it.” Absentmindedly, Aziraphale’s hand found its way into Crowley’s. “Your hand’s cold.”

“I’m cold-blooded.”

“It wasn’t cold earlier.”

“We were standing out in the sun. I’ll take my hand back if you’re going to keep complaining.”

“No, no. It’s just different is all.” Aziraphale ran his thumb along Crowley’s knuckles. “Do you think they’ll call us back tomorrow?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Crowley sighed, his hand tensing in Aziraphale’s. “If they do, then that makes this our last night here. Our last hurrah.”

“Not a bad way to spend our last night. Though I expect you’d like to go out in a blaze of glory, taking down hundreds with you.”

“I used to, maybe, but not anymore. After all we’ve been through, after what happened today,” Crowley propped himself up on his elbow, looking Aziraphale dead in the eye, “I think I’m just glad to be spending my final hours on earth with you.”

Aziraphale blushed. “That’s very sweet. Where’s this coming from?” 

“I don’t know. But Aziraphale, I must ask you something.”

“Of course, my dear. Anything.”

“Can I sleep with you? I- blimey, that came out wrong.” 

Aziraphale found himself turning redder by the minute. He could only nod, as Crowley continued on. 

“I just meant in the same bed, not like, intercourse. Unless you _wanted_ that, then I’d be willing to make arrangements-“ 

Aziraphale then remembered how to speak. “Yes, you can sleep with me. I don’t mind. Though you should know I don’t do much in the way of sleeping.”

“That’s fine. I just don’t want to be alone, if this really is our last night on earth.”

“Of course. Of course, my dear.” He squeezed Crowley’s hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to be alone.”

——————

“You’re like a space heater.” Crowley muttered, buried under the heavy comforter of Aziraphale’s bed. “I’m inches away, and I can feel it radiating off of you.”

Aziraphale flipped through a book with pages that crinkled like parchment under his fingers. “That comes with the angel territory. Do you always sleep burrowed under blankets like this?”

“Most of the time I crank the heat up to 90 and sleep naked.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but imagine the scene. “I don’t think my heating system goes up quite that high. It’s still just radiators.”

“Why haven’t you gotten central heating or something?”

“Radiators are quaint. I think they suit the bookshop quite well.”

“They’re archaic. And inefficient. I of all people should know, I invented the oil furnace.”

“It hasn’t actually used oil in decades. Much like how your Bentley doesn’t need gasoline.”

“Mmph.” Crowley grunted. “Goodnight, angel.”

“Goodnight, Crowley.”

For a few minutes, Aziraphale flipped through his book in silence, the only sound being the sound of breathing. But that silence was broken by the voice of an exhausted demon. 

“Would you mind putting the book down? It’s a bit loud, the pages.” 

“Sure.” Aziraphale inserted his bookmark into the pages and left it on his bedside table. Soon, Aziraphale found himself getting drowsy, from the general warmth of the room and the fact that the day would drain any rational being. 

As he settled deeper under the covers, Aziraphale felt an arm go across his middle. Lifting the covers just a bit, he peeked underneath and saw Crowley, now glued to Aziraphale’s side. Aziraphale smiled. 

Yes, there were definitely worst ways to spend your possible last night on the planet. In fact, one couldn’t do much better than being in bed, curled up next to the one you love.

——————

The night passed into morning, and morning into afternoon, and afternoon into the next night. Shocked that neither of them had heard a word from their supervisors, they decided to spend the next night much in the same way, just in case. 

But that night passed. And so did the next. And many more, until a year had gone by, and still not a word had been said from up above or down below. 

“Perhaps they’ve forgotten about us.” Crowley said, his head on Aziraphale’s chest. 

Aziraphale kissed the top of Crowley’s head. “Maybe they have. I’d be alright with that.”

“So would I, angel. So would I.”

**Author's Note:**

> They’re in Love


End file.
